by Lisa McMann
“Hey, Seth, Ibrahim,” said Carina. “Can you bring that fruit bowl over here? And anything else you can find. We need fuel for our minds to figure out how to get out of here.”
Seth and Ibrahim searched the cabinets and found loaves of bread, nuts, and other snacks. Seth filled several glasses with the orange-cream drink and put them on a large round tray, then carefully brought it over to where Lani, Carina, and the others sat. There were close to twenty-five people and statues milling around.
“Has anyone figured out who’s not here?” Lani asked. “Samheed, for one.” She seemed a bit worried, understandably so. “Who else is missing from our team?”
“Fifer,” said Seth. “And Aaron.”
“Octavia’s not here, is she?” asked Claire, scanning the room.
“No,” said Henry, who was sitting with Thatcher and the rest of their family. “Clementi is missing too.”
“What about Fox and Kitten?” asked the ostrich statue grumpily. “Everyone always forgets the statues.”
Claire looked like she wasn’t about to take any sass from the ostrich, as she’d been the one to note Ms. Octavia’s absence a moment ago. But Gunnar Haluki nudged her, so she closed her lips firmly and ignored the bird instead. “Does anybody know what caused the tube system failure? I can’t even get Earl to surface on the tube’s blackboard. I don’t know if all of the blackboards are broken too, or if Earl is under Frieda’s command not to speak to us.”
“I was hoping you’d know how to fix it,” said Carina.
“I have no idea how,” said Claire. “This has never happened before.”
“I assume something must have gone wrong with the main tubes,” said Lani.
“Yes, it has,” said Sean, looking up from his seat nearby. “Two of the tubes were already destroyed—did anybody else notice that when we were fighting? I was trying to figure out a new plan of escape and saw that the control panels were smashed.”
“Monsters,” Claire muttered. “Why did they have to destroy everything? What’s the point in doing that? After everything Artimé has done for them—it’s just absurd. And uncouth. My father would be horrified, and so hurt.”
“It doesn’t make sense, especially since they decided to take over the mansion,” said Seth. “What good does that do? Talk about a lack of foresight. Now they’re stuck with the ruins.”
Sean smiled grimly. “And we’re stuck in here.”
“They had enough foresight to organize and trap us,” said Ibrahim glumly. “Florence is going to be livid when she finds out.”
“Where do you think the others are?” asked Seth. “I hope they’re not…” His face turned gray. Alex’s death was still fresh on his mind. What if Frieda Stubbs had killed Aaron and Fifer, like she’d threatened to do? Was that too far-fetched to worry about at this point? Would she really go through with her threats, or was it all just fearmongering blather? He could feel his chest tighten. Where are they? And Clementi, too? He couldn’t think about it. “I really hope they escaped,” he murmured. His stomach gurgled, and suddenly the thought of orange cream made him nauseous.
“I think they’re fine,” said Carina reassuringly, despite the worry in her eyes. “My guess? The dissenters probably just shoved our frozen bodies out of the tube into the piles we found ourselves in when we woke up. When they couldn’t fit any more on top of the pile of people in here, I’ll bet you anything they sent the rest to the theater or the library.”
Seth gave his mother a grateful look. “I hope you’re right.” He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was calming to have a new image to dwell on. Carina was always so good at sensing when Seth’s anxiety was high and he needed help with it. But he was still worried. He had to focus on something else. “So,” he said with another measured breath, “how do we fix the tube?” When nobody said anything immediately, he offered, “Remember, Aaron fixed one once. Maybe he’s already working on it.”
“No doubt he is,” declared Lani with assurance she didn’t feel. She pressed her fingers to her temples, massaging them as if she had a headache. Then she looked up. “Who’s our best artist in here? Anyone especially good with drawing or painting?”
Henry glanced at Ibrahim. “Ib? You’re pretty good.”
“I’m better at dance,” Ibrahim said, looking worried. “Why? What kind of drawing do you need?”
“A 3-D door,” said Lani. “From memory.”
Ibrahim stared. “I—we haven’t started that in art class yet. I don’t have the faintest idea about how to do it.”
Lani patted his hand reassuringly. “That’s okay. I didn’t expect any of us could do that. It’s very difficult. I figured it was worth asking.”
“Here’s hoping Octavia’s already started on one,” said Claire. “Wherever she is. But for now, I say we may as well get some sleep while we can.”
Many of the others agreed, but Sean stayed seated at his table, staring listlessly at the tubes. Soon Carina joined him, and they sat together silently, feeling helpless and hoping their younger ones were handling everything okay.
Before Seth lay down to rest, he went over to his mother and Sean. “You know,” he said quietly, “Florence is the best babysitter in all of Artimé. I speak from experience. Ava and Lukas are probably having a total blast hanging out with her.”
Sean looked up, eyes glistening, and put his hand on Seth’s forearm. “Thanks, Seth,” he said earnestly. “You really know how to make a guy feel better. When did you learn how to do that?”
Seth glanced warmly at his mom, then back at Sean. “I dunno,” he said lightly. “I must have figured it out somewhere.” He left his mother and Sean to themselves and found a place to lie down on the floor, though he wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep. He may have eased Sean’s fears, but now all Seth hoped for was to feel just as good about Fifer being alive.
Seeing Things
To Dev’s great relief it was quiet in the cavelands, and the ghost dragons weren’t the least bit fierce. They wandered aimlessly as if waiting for something that they couldn’t quite remember. By nightfall, Dev was moving around and feeling a bit better, though his ribs still ached badly. He was strong enough to draw water from the river to drink, but fishing was out of the question. Every slight movement made some part of him hurt.
But at least he wasn’t dead, he kept reminding himself. Eventually, when he grew hungry enough, he worked up the courage to ask for help with fishing from a passing dragon named Astrid. She obliged without argument and said she’d deliver it to wherever Dev decided to sleep for the night. He found an empty cave nearby and watched for Astrid to come back so he could flag her down in case she forgot who she was bringing it to. When the ghost dragon returned with a nice plump fish, she started a fire for him with one breath so he wouldn’t have to and left him to settle in and cook his dinner.
The peaceful environment gave Dev plenty of time to think about his narrow escape from death, as well as his predicament going forward. Did the Revinir think he was dead? He certainly hoped so. And would he stay here in the cavelands? While this sort of quiet boredom was nice for the moment, he didn’t think he could stand it for long. But Drock had practically ordered him not to return to Grimere, and for once Dev felt strongly that he should not challenge that directive. Maybe it was the near-death experience that had him wanting to obey, or his increased fear of the Revinir now that he was back in control of his own mind. Or perhaps it was the compassion that the dark purple dragon had shown him. The memory of Drock’s kindness warmed him. Dev wasn’t quite sure how to accept that sort of gift, since he’d rarely seen such generosity directed toward him.
Eventually Dev’s mind wandered to the images that had flashed before his eyes when he was falling from the window, which had been caused by the Revinir’s roar. He’d experienced them a few times since taking the ancestor broth, whenever the Revinir sent out her call. But it always seemed like he’d been on the run and too busy trying not to get caught to contemplate the
m.
Not so, now. He had all the time in the world to think them through. The only problem was that he wasn’t sure what the images stood for. He’d never seen anything like them before in his life that he could remember.
He’d heard Thisbe talking about this phenomenon briefly in the catacombs—before he went to sacrifice himself to give the others a chance to escape. And he remembered the first time it had happened—it was in the kitchen, around the time he’d recognized Thisbe was back working with him. Maybe he’d seen them before that, but if so, he didn’t have any recollection of it. It was like he’d come back to life in that moment after Thisbe fed him the ancestor broth.
She’d saved him, really. He knew that. Saved him from being under the Revinir’s mind control forever. She’d risked coming back to Grimere, getting sent to the catacombs, and being taken captive again just for him. For the others, too, of course, but she didn’t know them very well. And he could tell how glad she’d been to see him recognize her, which made him feel like he had a real friend for the first time ever, even though that feeling was short-lived. So him saving her right back? Well, Dev thought it shouldn’t be feeling as bad as it did. It felt lonely, like his insides had been shredded by Drock’s teeth too. Maybe the brokenness inside him that Drock said he couldn’t fix wasn’t his ribs after all. “It’s just that they all left me,” he muttered, staring at the embers of the fire.
He lay down on the hard ground. The images lined his mind, easy enough to pull up now that he had time to focus on them. The most intriguing one was that of a glorious palace, with five bulb-topped towers, one in each corner of the structure and the largest in the middle. The palace was shimmering and colorful, like something out of a storybook. It was boldly painted, purple and orange and red, and it stood slightly raised on a hill with inviting roads and paths leading to it from all directions, and lush grass and flowers in between. People strolled along paths through an orchard from a village nearby, and carts hurried up and down the roads. The scene looked so pleasant, like a place without any cares. Where no one had to worry about being punished for someone else’s mistakes. Where friends were a normal part of life. Where food was abundant, and no one was excluded from eating it.
It seemed like a dreamland to Dev. Too good to be true. And certainly it was, for in the corner of the image, Dev could see a small flaming rock with a lengthy tail of fire in the sky, heading straight for the palace. One more thing that was too good to be true.
When Dev slept, he erased the meteor from the image in his dreams and wandered the land outside the palace, traversing the paths that led to the glorious entrance and waiting to be invited inside.
A Rough Landing
Gorgrun and Quince flew over Warbler during the second night and had the island of Quill and Artimé in their sights before dawn. They steered toward it. Their riders woke, having missed Warbler Island completely while they slept. Thisbe got up feeling agitated and anxious, with all of her worries multiplying the closer they got to Fifer in Artimé and the farther they got from Dev in Grimere.
But Thisbe had work to do, and soon she and Maiven had the others fueling up with breakfast and on their feet to practice breathing fire, work on their sword fighting techniques, and review the magical spells Thisbe had taught them. The former slaves were quick learners, and slowly but surely things were coming together. Thisbe’s confidence rose when she could see her home island. Her scales tingled in anticipation, and she wanted to urge Gorgrun and Quince to fly faster. Florence would be surprised and pleased to see the small army she was bringing. Thisbe hoped they weren’t too late to help.
As they approached the Island of Legends off the coast of Quill, everyone took a break to look down on the beautiful, living crab named Karkinos, who had a lush forest covering his shell. Thisbe, in a combination of both languages, described the scene before them. “There’s a shiny rooster on the top of the tallest tree at the center of the forest,” she explained, like a tour guide. “Do you see him glinting in the sunlight? His name is Vido. He shouts out weird wisdom quotes if you get close enough. And hidden in the trees are hundreds of drop bears. They are adorably cute but really dangerous. There’s a smelly hibagon, too, but he stays hidden, because if you catch his gaze, you’ll fall in love with him.”
The team tittered with that revelation. Thisbe smiled and waited, then continued when they quieted. “Often on the beach you’ll see Lhasa the snow lion, and Talon the bronze giant, who is the caretaker of Karkinos the crab. But I don’t see either of them right now. Oh, and Issie the sea monster! She’s the mother of Isobel, who helped me and my friends return here safely through the volcano system. I’ve been trying to get them to find each other, because Issie keeps crying for her baby. It’s really sad. But they don’t seem to understand. Talon talked about going in search of her—I hope he has.”
Maiven and the other children peppered Thisbe with questions, but soon her attention turned toward Artimé, and she faltered with the answers. She strained her eyes to detect what was happening, imagining all sorts of bloody battles going on across the lawn like she’d read about in Lani’s books. But she could see nothing but the mansion and the fountains and the jungle. No human or statue activity, not any movement anywhere. They got closer, and Thisbe could see signs of past skirmishes, for sure—some of the grass was torn up, and piles of glass next to the mansion caught the light. She noticed Scarlet’s skiff anchored in front of the mansion, which was uncommon, but not suspect.
“I wonder if the whole battle is over already,” said Thisbe, her heart pounding. If so, what was the outcome? She rested a hand on the hilt of her sword and kept looking for any sign of life. While Thisbe never wanted to see any Artiméans in battle against one another, or discover that anyone had been hurt, this calm scene was almost disappointing—they’d come all this way at Florence’s request. “If it is over,” Thisbe mused, “it would have been nice of Florence to let us know.”
The others eyed Thisbe, gauging her mood, and watched the island grow larger.
“Are you able to send Florence the new send spell?” Rohan asked. “Ask her what’s happening? We don’t exactly want to go flying in there with the dragons spraying fire if everything has been settled.”
“No,” Thisbe lamented. “I wish I could. When I sent my reply, the spell component went with it—my guess is it’ll only come back to me if Florence replies to my response. If I had my own supply of send components I could start a new message, but it’s a brand-new spell, just developed after I left.” She paused. “Maybe she hasn’t made any more components. I’m sure she’s been busy.”
Asha said something to Rohan in the common language intended to be translated, but Thisbe thought she understood. “Are you wondering if I should send her the regular seek spell?” Thisbe asked. “I could, but that might be confusing—it’s been known mainly as a call for help. I don’t want Florence to worry about me right now, or receive a brightly lit spell that could give away her location in case she’s in danger or hiding somewhere.” She wrinkled her nose and studied the island as they drew close, trying to see through the mansion windows. She could barely make out the outlines of people standing just inside, not moving. “This is strange. They must still be fighting, but nothing’s actually happening right now. Unless… it’s over? But if the war is over, why is nobody on the lawn on such a beautiful morning? It’s not normal.”
Quince turned his head. “What is it that we are doing again?” he asked. “Is this where Pan lives?”
“No,” said Thisbe patiently, for there was no other way to be with the ghost dragons. “Pan is back in the land of the dragons under the Revinir’s mind control. When she’s in this world, she lives one island farther east, the tall cylindrical one. We’re here to stop a civil war on this island. Remember?”
“Oh, yes,” said Quince. “Though I don’t see a war. Where is it?”
“Um,” said Thisbe, “I’m not… sure.” She and Maiven exchanged a pained look.
&
nbsp; “What shall we do, Thisbe?” asked Maiven gently. “This is your decision.”
“I—I’m thinking.” Thisbe leaned forward, knowing she had about ten seconds to come up with a plan before they’d actually be on top of the island. “Gorgrun and Quince, can you circle around please?” called Thisbe, feeling desperate for time to think. Certainly someone would have seen the dragons approaching by now—there was no way to sneak up on them. Where was Simber? The island was too eerily quiet and calm. Something wasn’t right. Simber should be here. Something wasn’t right.
Thisbe began to panic. “Be on your guard!” she shouted. “Prepare your spells, humans! Gorgrun, swoop in so we can get a better look inside the mansion, but don’t land just yet.”
“Do you want us to torch the structure?” asked Quince.
“No!” cried Thisbe, clutching her shirt. “Goodness. No. That would be terrible. Hold your dragon fire! Let’s just swing wide around the mansion for a look.”
Gorgrun complied with Thisbe’s instructions, swooping low over the beach and lawn. As they passed the windows, Thisbe shaded her eyes, ready with components. She peered inside, trying to see if she recognized anyone standing there. Cries of fright rose at the nearness of these unfamiliar ghost dragons. “They’re here! The evil dragon-monsters have come!” Through the noise, Thisbe heard a louder call to attack. Fearful dissenters launched components from every window.
“Look out!” Thisbe cried, but her warning came too late as three of her friends were hit with scatterclip spells. With nothing immediately behind them to stick to, the three sailed backward off the dragon and flew all the way to the fountain on the lawn, smacking into the sculpture and sticking there.
Rohan dodged flying components and sent a glass spell at one of the mansion windows, sealing it up nicely and forcing the person inside to find a new place to work from or take the time to release the spell. Thisbe peppered the visible dissenters with backward bobbly head, fire step, and pin cushion components, introducing all sorts of confusion and distraction into the mansion. They soared around the other side and did the same. One of the other children from Grimere managed to place a glass spell too, and earned high praise from Thisbe as the dragon rose out of range.
